Resent, Reject, Regret

Deirdre tossed an implicative glance outside the kitchen.

“Believe me, I’ve seen the worst, and now nobody else’s skill could ever faze me again. Seriously, try to surprise me.”

“Heh.” Declan excitedly washed his hands and grabbed a spare knife. He made a few nicks and began to unpeel it.

“How’s this?”

Deirdre’s poor sight would not be able to help her tell, but she also thought this was the best opportunity to get Glenna and Declan talking again.

“What do you think, Glenna?”

Quietly exasperated, Glenna turned in the direction of Declan’s hand and noticed how beautiful his fingers really were. It was as if a man with good genes simply could not have anything remotely out of place in any part of their physical appearance. Glenna never fancied herself as someone who gave a dime about hands, and yet even her heart throbbed.

When she finally broke out of her trance, she realized she had been silent too long. Declan tried to dispel the awkwardness in the air with a chuckle. “I must have done a really crappy job if my panelist can’t review my handiwork.”

He made another nick.

“How about now?”

her knife and potato down and

Declan could only remark to himself,

she had overheard. What happened? What was it that made Glenna hold that big of a grudge? She obviously had a crush on

had made up, Mr.

tears at that time despite himself

of question is that? Did … Did you make

replied, forcing himself out of

who would never shed

she exhaled a breath. “Glenna’s a tough cookie. I’ve never seen or heard her cry before, which means… if she did

only returned after the potato slices were almost done. She explained that she

“Had something shady lately?”

from the other day. D*mnit, I should have known!” she replied as she finished slicing

on to their other dishes-including Glenna’s stuffed eggplants- until, finally, the dinner was served

yet today, she was uncharacteristically quiet